Not only had the abuser robbed Henry of his childhood innocence, but he’d cheated him of so much more. It was no wonder, no wonder at all, that Henry couldn’t trust in love. That he showed such little desire for intimacy. And as for fatherhood, had he maybe thought he carried the same perverse sickness in his genes?
Beyond all of that, his vile uncle—a man supposedly drawn to the Lord—had taken away a fullness of faith from Henry as well. It stood to reason why her husband had never wanted to be involved with the people at church. Or better acquainted with others throughout their church district.
“I hope whoever did this to him is in jail now,” Jessica spoke up, looking at Lydia and then glancing at her son.
Lydia drew in a deep breath before she spoke again. “That never happened. As I understand it, by the time Henry confided to his grandmother—his maternal grandmother, who I’m supposing was the only person he felt close enough to confide in and talk to—his uncle had already passed away. But even though he was dead, Henry’s grandmother said Henry was still haunted by it all, of course. Why wouldna he be? Tormented day and night, as you would figure.”
“But your mother never knew?” Liz asked.
“Nee. Like I said, not until recently. Maam only knew of him as a good person, and because he had so many skills, thought he’d be a good provider, too.”
But after reading all her mother had written, now it did make sense that Miriam had pushed their marriage so much, and why she’d been thrilled her grandson and his wife were moving to Sugarcreek to get a fresh start together. Plus, from what Miriam had said, she thought a loving girl like Lydia would help heal Henry and give him the chance for a happier future. Most likely, she’d made Henry believe and hope the same thing—that a new person in his life and a new place void of haunting memories would restore him, make him whole again. Make him the person he was always meant to be.
But those awful, hideous memories wouldn’t be left behind. They must have followed him and tortured him each day . . . as his hope slipped away.
Because in all their years together, he’d kept himself busy, hadn’t he? He’d run from her. He’d never been able to find it in himself to hold her and love her. To be close. To let her love him. All of which she now understood. Yet it still hurt.
Only now, she mostly hurt for him.
“I just wish . . .” She wrung her hands. “If only he could’ve confided in me. Maybe I could’ve helped him more.”
When Henry had first passed, she’d grieved him as a partner in marriage—a protector and provider who gave shape to the hours in her days. Then she’d grieved the life she’d wanted with him and realized they’d never had together. She’d mourned the love they hadn’t shared. But now her heart broke all over again, aching for him as one human to another, wishing she could’ve done more for him. So much more.
“After all the hurt he’d gone through, I just hope I loved him enough.” She sniffed. “I hope in some small way Henry felt my love.”
“Oh, Lydia.” Jessica reached out and took her hand. “You’re a good, loving person. I’m sure he felt that from you. Just like we do.”
“It sounds like you did everything you could, honey. I’m sure he knew how you cared for him.” Liz offered up more consoling words. “Why, when you think about it, I’m guessing that’s why he would push you away. He might’ve been too afraid of his own feelings too.”
More than her friends’ words being comforting, Lydia hoped with all her heart they were true.
“I need to tell you both, I moved the quilt.” She swiped at a teardrop sliding down her cheek. “I had to put it away. In an old trunk. At least for now. I just couldn’t bear to look at it. So if you’re at my house and don’t see it, I don’t want you to think I’m not grateful, but—”
“Shh, Lydia, shh . . .” Jessica patted her hand. “Don’t you worry. We understand.”
“And you don’t need to be thinking of us right now, honey,” Liz chimed in. “Not one bit.”
Actually she didn’t want to think, period. She was tired of thinking, in fact. “I’m going to get some air.” She started to get up from the chair.
“Are you sure? Would you rather I drive you home?” Jessica asked. “It’s not a problem at all, Lydia. Really it isn’t.”
“Nee.” She smoothed down her skirts. “This is the place I want to be. It feels like home to me. And the busier I am, the better, honestly. But a little air would be gut right now. Something to cool my cheeks.”
She’d barely finished her sentence and Liz had already retrieved her coat from the back closet for her. After Lydia had buttoned it up, Liz raised the collar around her neck, then reached out her arms and wrapped Lydia in a hug. A long, warm, strong hug that she hadn’t even realized she needed so much.
As she slipped out the door of the Cottage, shop windows and lampposts along Main Street glimmered warmly with Christmas lights, yet the air was so brisk it took her breath away. But . . . it felt good just the same. Just as good and rejuvenating as it would be to see Rebecca and to hear her friend jabber on and on. All about her children and her wonderful life. To hear something good. And fresh. And clean. It was exactly what she needed at the moment.
Hands in her pockets, Lydia made her way toward Good for the Soul Bakery, very much looking forward to seeing her friend.
AS LYDIA STEPPED INTO Good for the Soul, the bell jingled over the door as it always did, announcing her arrival. She noticed that the bakery cases were still partially filled with cookies and a few cupcakes left over from the day, but her friend was nowhere to be seen. She waited a few moments for her pink-cheeked, pregnant-bellied friend to appear. When she didn’t, Lydia leaned over the counter, trying to see past the bakery cases.
“Rebecca?” she called out. “Yoo-hoo, friend. Where are ya?”
In response to her question, a blonde-haired woman instantly appeared from the back of the shop. “Sorry about that,” the lady apologized. “I was in the back, cleaning up.”
Spying a dab of frosting at the corner of the woman’s mouth, Lydia had to smile, wondering what she was cleaning. Maybe some icing-covered spoons? Or some cupcake crumbs?
“Can I help you?” asked the woman, whose name tag read Kimberly.
“I was looking for Rebecca.”
“Oh.” Kimberly shrugged. “She’s not here. That’s why I am. I’m her replacement.”
“But . . .” Lydia could feel her smile taking a downward turn. “I thought she had a little more time before her leave.”
“You’re right. She did. But . . . well, I’m guessing you’re a friend of hers?” Kimberly asked even though she was eyeing Lydia warily.
“Jah. Jah, I am.”
“And you didn’t hear?”
“Hear what?” Lydia could feel her chest tightening.
“She had to leave in the middle of her shift yesterday. An emergency situation. From what I heard, she had to go on immediate bed rest. They were afraid she was going to lose the baby.”
“Lose the baby?” Lydia gasped, shocked. She couldn’t imagine such an awful thing happening to her friend and prayed Gott wouldn’t let it be. “But she can’t. She can’t lose the baby.”
“Like I said, that’s why she had to go on bed rest. So that everything would be okay with the baby.”
“Jah? They think the baby will be all right?”
“That’s what I heard.” Kimberly nodded.
But Lydia wanted to hear it for herself. Pushing away from the bakery cases, her head swimming, she quickly headed toward the front door.
“So, you don’t want anything?” Rebecca’s replacement called out to her, holding her arms in the air, looking perplexed.
“No, danke. Nee,” Lydia said, not hesitating a bit. She didn’t want anything at that moment. Nothing at all. Except for her friend’s precious little one to be all right.
It wasn’t even an hour later when Lydia was saying danke again, this time to Jessica and Liz as Jessica steered her SUV toward El
mhurst Road just on the outskirts of town.
“Thank you for making a trip to Rebecca’s house,” she told the two of them, grateful they’d been quick to react to the change of plans. “I know a Secret Stitches outing wasn’t exactly what we’d scheduled tonight.”
“I’m getting the impression many times it isn’t.” Jessica chuckled. “It just sort of happens, doesn’t it? And I do feel so bad for Rebecca. She’s such a sweetie.”
“As sweet as the baked goods she sells,” Liz chimed in. “No matter when I stop in the bakery to pick up something, she always has a big smile on her face.”
“She can be a chatterbox, too.” Lydia smiled fondly, recalling how listening to Rebecca prattle on could often put her at ease.
“I sure hope all is good with her and her baby,” Jessica said wistfully as she slowed the car down and made a right turn. “Well, here we are already. Elmhurst really wasn’t far from town at all. If you want to stay and visit with Rebecca for a bit, Lydia, just let us know.”
“Yes, we can wait,” Liz agreed.
“Nee. I don’t want to intrude on her family. Not at night. I’ll come back and visit in the daytime. Or after church,” she said, thinking ahead. “I just wanted to drop off our surprise gifts tonight to give her a boost of hope. To let her know someone is thinking of her.”
It hadn’t taken long at all to put together a Secret Stitches package for Rebecca and her family. Lydia had already been busy knitting a few pairs of booties for Rebecca’s new arrival, be it boy or girl. And after searching through Rose’s treasure chest, Jessica had found a darling baby quilt, replete with colorful farm animals. Liz had brought a yummy white-chocolate Chex Mix snack for their evening treat, which they ended up dividing into fourths. One-fourth they left behind for Cole and Marisa to enjoy. The rest they divvied up for Rebecca’s other three children, placing the mix in three small tins Jessica had uncovered in her cupboards. Tying the tins up with pieces of sparkling ribbon, they placed the snacks along with the other items into a wicker basket and had been ready to head out the door to Rebecca’s in no time.
“Believe it or not, I don’t think I’ve ever been on this street,” Liz said, looking out the window as Jessica cruised slowly down the lane. “The houses are very homey looking.”
Lydia scooted up toward the front seat, peering through the windshield to get a look. Just being able to get out and do something was making her feel somewhat better—about Rebecca’s situation and even her own.
Each and every time thoughts of Henry would come back to her, she could feel her heart sink in disbelief and sorrow. But she made herself vow to Gott that she would try to help others as best she could. Especially since, sadly and most regrettably, she hadn’t been able to do anything to help Henry through the turmoil she’d never known about.
“Are we looking for a certain house number?” Liz asked.
“Oh . . .” Lydia frowned. “I don’t have an address. But her house should be easy to find. Rebecca told me their road dead-ends, and they live in a white house at the very end of the street.”
Half a minute later, the road stopped, just as Rebecca had told Lydia it would. But as Jessica put the car in park and the headlights beamed momentarily in front of them, they realized there was one little item Rebecca had left out of her description.
“Hmm,” Jessica said as they all stared out the windshield.
“Interesting,” Liz remarked, sounding mystified.
“Jah, for sure.” Lydia turned her head, left to right. “Rebecca never mentioned there were two white houses at the end of her street. Sitting side by side.”
“Yeah, and I don’t see anything to distinguish them,” Jessica commented, which was completely true. Both two-story homes looked very much the same, and so did the trees and hedges surrounding them.
“There aren’t any buggies sitting out.” Lydia scoped the grounds.
“Or any cars,” Liz added.
“I suppose they’re all in the outbuildings?” Jessica guessed.
“Oh, goodness.” Liz scratched her head. “Now what?”
Jessica cut the engine and they sat in silence, pondering the situation. But when no one came up with a solution, Lydia voiced her own.
“I just need to do this myself,” she said. “It’s too chancy—too much commotion with three of us. I’ll sneak up to the house on my own and look in the window so I can see who lives where.”
“Like a Peeping Tom?” Jessica’s voice had a slight screech to it.
“Who?” Lydia asked, confused.
“Never mind,” her friend said. “I just don’t know if it’s a good idea, Lydia. Peeking into windows sounds like trouble.”
“Maybe you should knock on the door instead,” Liz suggested.
“But we’re the Secret Stitches Society,” Lydia protested. “We never knock on doors.” She took in a deep breath, knowing she had to take matters into her own hands. “Don’t worry, ladies. I’ll be fine. Mighty fine,” she said as convincingly as she could. “It’ll be gut. I’ll be back in the car before you all know it.”
With that, she grabbed the gift basket, opened the car door, and skipped over the road toward the white houses. The only thing she wondered was which one she should try first.
“What do you think?” Jessica asked Liz a while later in the quiet of the car. “Does it seem like Lydia’s taking a long time? Because it sure seems like that to me.”
“Yeah, I thought her white kapp would be like a beacon in the night.” Liz sighed. “But I lost track of her a while ago.”
“I know. Me too. What happened to the moonlight?” Jessica wondered out loud.
“I think they call it clouds,” Liz quipped, which made Jessica worry even more.
“Maybe she tripped and fell in the dark.”
“Oh, dear.” Liz shot her a quick glance, her features crumpled with concern. “Let’s hope not, honey.”
“She could’ve, you know.” Jessica couldn’t help imagining the worst. “She could’ve fallen and hit her head or broken her leg and—”
“Wait!” Liz reached over and clasped her arm. “I think I see something moving.”
“Seriously?” Jessica poked her head over the steering wheel, anxious to see. “Oh! I think I see it too. Over there, right?” She pointed toward the left side of the windshield. “Through the trees?”
It was only a moment later that Lydia’s form burst through the dark clump of trees, illuminated by the moonlight, which had broken through the clouds. Holding her long coat and skirt up with one hand, still clutching the basket of gifts in the other, her kapp all askew, Lydia looked like something out of a cartoon. Jessica started to laugh. Until she leaned closer and realized how terrified Lydia appeared. Her friend looked like she was running from the boogeyman.
“Oh, my . . .” Her mouth gaped open at the sight. “Oh, my goodness.”
“Turn on the car,” Liz yelped. “Start it up. We have to get out of here. Quick!”
Jessica fumbled for the key in the ignition. At the same time Lydia had reached the car. Groping for the handle on the door, she flew into the backseat, slamming the door shut behind her.
“Are you all right?” Jessica managed to ask as she put her SUV into gear.
Lydia’s breathy heaving filled the car in reply. “I was . . .” She gasped for air. “Looking in a window, trying to see, and . . . I couldna see. Then I snuck to the back . . . to the kitchen window and looked in there and . . . This woman . . . her face came out of nowhere,” she puffed. “Nowhere. She saw me. And screamed. And I . . . I . . .” She huffed and gulped. “I got so scared, I screamed too!”
“Oh, dear!” Liz exclaimed as Jessica worked to turn the car around in the small space at the end of the lane. “We’ll be lucky if they haven’t already called the—”
She didn’t have to say the word.
As soon as Jessica had gotten the car straightened, intent on hustling out of the neighborhood, a police car with its flashing light and low w
hoop-whoop of a siren halted right in front of her SUV. Stopping them from going anywhere and blinding them all at the same time.
“Oh, dear Lord, please don’t let it be Derek. Don’t let it be Derek,” she whispered, blinking into the light.
Days before, she’d already leaked out one embarrassing situation she’d created. Her tender pride wasn’t in the mood to be caught in another one. At least not so soon.
Shielding her eyes from the flashing light, she held her breath as the deputy sheriff got out of the car. It was easy to see it wasn’t anyone but . . .
“Derek! Of course.” She groaned. “Somehow this Secret Stitches thing is never very simple, is it?” Motion sensors. A flat tire. Now the police?
“Guess we’ll just have to keep trying to get it right,” Liz offered.
“I’m verra sorry, you two. I really am,” Lydia apologized. “It’s all my fault. I’m the one who should be in trouble.”
“Nonsense, Lydia,” Liz spoke up. “We’re the ones who let you run off by yourself.”
“Yes.” Jessica sure didn’t want her friend to take all the blame herself. “We’ve got to be all for one and one for all,” she said as she watched Derek approach the car.
Even in her ridiculous present situation, she couldn’t deny how just seeing him in his uniform hurried her pulse. As she lowered her car window and he peeked inside, she tried to ignore the musky scent of him tickling her nose and taunting her senses.
“Ladies.” He nodded sternly. At the same time, Jessica could tell he was biting his lip, as if trying to hold back a smile. “Interesting meeting you all here tonight on Elmhurst Road. We had a call about a Peeping Tom—or should I say, a Peeping Thomasina?”
“Oh.” Lydia spoke up from the backseat. “A Peeping Thomasina. Now I know what you all are talking about.”
“No one was exactly peeping as in peeping, Derek. We were just trying to see if we had the right house,” Jessica explained. “We had some gifts to deliver to a friend who lives in a white house at the end of the street, but as you can see, there are two white homes right next door to each other.”
The Sisters of Sugarcreek Page 27
